While driving me from Sea-Tac to this office, after a uneventful five-hour flight from New York City, the first Mudede, my father, to ever set eyes (and a foot) on that big city of dreams tells me this story:

“Yes, it was 1971, autumn, and the pilot seemed to be promoting Manhattan, because we kept circling it, about five times. But I was impressed. I said to myself, ‘Now what is this?’

When we finally landed at JFK, I was informed by a ticket agent that I had missed my connection to Nashville. (All of that circling about the city must have been behind that.) Anyway, I was told that a flight for Nashville was available at another airport, La Guardia, later in the evening. I asked the ticket agent how far La Gardia was from JFK, and he told me about 12 miles. Because I was in the habit of walking that kind of distance in Qwe Qwe [Rhodesia-now called Zimbabwe], I decided to walk to La Guardia. This would also allow me to see the famous city from the ground.

Well, I started walking and walking and walking and walking; and it got darker and darker and darker. At last I came across a building with a lit window. In the window, I saw a woman, and I knocked on the glass. The woman turned and saw me. I asked her where I was, and she told me I was at JFK airport. My goodness, I thought to myself, walking was not going to work at all. The woman was kind enough to show me where I could catch a bus to La Guardia and that is how I eventually got there. New York City is very big, even by bus.”